


Confessions Of A Drummer

by gimmefire



Series: Saints Universe [4]
Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-17
Updated: 2006-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"The fucking dude from Green Day?!"</i> How exactly do you, drummer in a world conquering, chest beating heavy metal band, go about telling your bandmates that one little detail that you failed to bring up during band therapy - you're bisexual? Oh, and you've been dating a guy for half a year. And you're taking him on vacation in four days. Lars Ulrich, the floor is yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions Of A Drummer

**Author's Note:**

> The second of the two 'deleted scenes' from the world of m'boy Lars.

"I'm taking Billie to the Caribbean," Lars blurted, eyes flicking to the carpeted floor, then back up to James. He kept his arms folded tightly across his chest, and for a second, his stomach churned.  
  
"Oh," was James's eloquent initial reaction, accompanied by raised eyebrows. Then, "Cool. Is it, uh, the private island thing?"  
  
This time Lars's stomach did a clean flip, and it wasn't borne purely from nerves. _The private island 'thing'. Right._ "Yeah, the one Bob talked about way back when." He paused, feeling something acrid curl up into his throat. " _Billie_ was really excited about it."  
  
James gave him a look, blue eyes colliding with green with significant force. "Don't start on that, Uli," he warned in a low voice.  
  
Lars gave a loose shrug, eyes widening innocently as he looked away. Fuck it, he was allowed to be passive aggressive if he wanted. Childish, yes, but it was his prerogative. After an awkward pause, he shifted his footing and spoke again, more sincerely this time. "It does mean something to me that, y'know, you're cool with this."  
  
"It's your life. Your vacation time, do whatever you want with it." James shrugged, small lopsided smile appearing on his face. "You're happy. 'Course I'm cool with it."  
  
Lars offered a thin smile. It wasn't quite forced, but there was definitely something else behind it. Lars being Lars, it didn't take too many seconds for it to show itself. His folded arms tightened a little more.  
  
"This time."  
  
James's smile vanished and he shook his head, turning away. "Don't, Lars, it's ancient history and all you wanna do is fuckin' pick at it, so just...forget it."  
  
Lars's smile was also gone as James walked away. He looked at the floor, expression stony. Green eyes flickered into a faint scowl for just a moment.  
  
 _This time._  
  
\----------------------------------------

\---------------------

"Um."

That was about as far as Lars got for the first minute or two. The great and glorious thought bumper, 'um'. Never normally one to have trouble with words of some description, the drummer finished chewing on his mouthful, slow, contemplative and noisy, and swallowed it. His tongue fished around his gums for any traces of food, finding nothing, and once again coming out with that choice piece of eloquency that he so favoured. "Um."

Kirk continued to look at him expectantly, waiting for that thought darting around in his bandmate's head to find form. Rob polished off his plate with his last chunk of crusty bread, occasionally glancing up towards Lars. James, well...he was listening, but you couldn't really tell. Sorta eavesdropping more than anything, flicking through an old copy of Classic Rock. Lars glanced over to the frontman and promptly lost his nerve. "Never mind," he muttered, taking an big angry bite of his sandwich. Quizzical looks, but nothing was said.

_Forhelvede_ , what was the big fuckin' deal?

It was the last few days in HQ before each bandmember went off on vacation for two weeks, returning for rehearsal for the European Escape tour. Lars had yet to tell two of his bandmates where he was going, and much more importantly, who he was going with.

_Caribbean. A dude. 9 years my junior. The guy from Green Day. We're dating._

Lars supposed that _that_ might be the big fuckin' deal. But dammit, it _wasn't_ a big fuckin' deal, not really. Kirk would be fine with it, Rob would be fine with it, he knew that, and James already knew. He'd had enough sense to take his ex to one side a few days ago and inform him in private. But back to today, and his rare-like-a-spotted-tiger case of shyness. Conveniently, though, Kirk and Rob had taken to discussing their own vacation plans in the wake of Lars's odd behaviour. Maybe this would present a good enough opportunity to come out with it. To come clean, in some ways. _Dating the guy from Green Day and I'm whisking him off to the Caribbean._

_Forhelvede._

"...so I'm only really going to be gone for about a week, the rest of the time I'll either be home or getting some surfing done," Kirk explained. "Actually, I might get down to Huntington for a day or two. It'd be good to see you down there, if you're not busy."

Rob nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, man, I'd be jazzed. You think we could persuade Daddy Ul to get his wetsuit on?"

"What?" Lars raised his eyes from his plate, frowning, having not really been paying attention to the conversation. Rob grinned.

"C'mon, dude, it'll be cookin'."

Kirk frowned at the bassist and canted his head. "Do you think they do some kind of stabilisers for boards?"

He received a contemptuous snort and an eyeroll for his troubles. "You know, it's such a shame I already have plans," Lars said so very sincerely. "Else I'd get down there and run you over with a jetski."

"Plans? Where are you headed?"

"The Caribbean."

Kirk nodded approvingly. "Diving?"

James cleared his throat and stood, clearing away his plates. The obnoxiously loud scrape of the chair dragged down Lars's spine. He kept his eyes on his own plate as the frontman moved past him. "Maybe, I don't know if I'll have the time for that," the drummer murmured without really thinking.

Having James in the room was almost certainly made more awkward by their mutual knowledge of something that had happened around twelve years ago. Namely a certain Dane inviting a certain frontman on a holiday to the Caribbean. And said certain frontman turning the Dane down. Well, in all honesty, it hadn't gotten as far as an invite - Lars had tentatively suggested that the two of them take a vacation, and James had laughed it off and basically made it clear that it wasn't going to happen. Wounded, Lars had lashed out, resulting in a blazing row that called into question James's commitment and Lars's perception of the relationship.

_Do you even love me? Don't use that as a fucking weapon! Don't treat me like a fuckin' accessory that's usable on your choosing! I am NOT yours!_

It had certainly been in the top five of their worst fights, and they didn't speak for almost two weeks afterwards. All from the suggestion of a vacation. It was the reason Lars had been incredibly anxious about suggesting the same thing to Billie, and had stood for a good twenty minutes at his front door, trying to decide whether it was a good idea to surreptitiously have a holiday brochure drop through the younger man's letterbox. But now it was done, it was booked, and it was four days away. Time to tell the rest of his band...

_Dating the guy from Green Day and I'm whisking him off to the Caribbean._

_Forhelvede._

Kirk was still looking at him, obviously waiting for him to explain his last remark. Hell, maybe he'd even asked aloud what Lars had meant while he'd been off in his own head.

"Um, I..."

Another scrape of the chair and James sat back down. Lars glanced up, unable to tell if the frontman was being deliberate or oblivious to his discomfort, blue eyes focussed back on his magazine. The Dane's pessimistic side was leaning towards the former. He glared and stood up himself. "Fine," he growled, following it with some indecipherable profanities before stalking off to the studio.

He sat down and stewed in one of the swivel chairs, occasionally muttering bitterly under his breath. It shouldn't be this big a deal, dammit. It shouldn't be affecting him this much at any rate. _James_ shouldn't still be affecting him this much, at least, so why did he?

Kirk leaned in. "Do I get to know what that was all about? Or should I know already?"

Lars shifted back up from his petulant looking slouch. "No, you get to bring me my soda and Rob," he grumbled. "Then you get to know what I'm doing for my vacation."  
 _Who I'm doing_ , a merry voice in the back of his head corrected. Kirk rolled his eyes, amusement plain in his grin, and ducked back out. Lars stood up and paced in a little circle, rubbing the back of his head, unable to keep still with the kind of news he had on his tongue waiting to be broken. He glanced around the empty studio, somewhat glad that Bob was not around this time. Much as he loved the guy, just telling his bandmates that he was bisexual was more than enough for one day, thanks.

In absurd kind of way, his nerves were leaking into excitement, excitement to finally be able to tell his extended family about a relationship that he was this excited about, that had this much potential and that wasn't a glaringly obvious one. To be himself, for God's sake.

He jumped when something cold was pressed against his arm, jerking him from his thoughts. Kirk stifled a chuckle as he held up Lars's Diet Coke with Lemon. Lars grinned. "Dick."

Rob perched on the arm of the black leather couch. "So what's m'boy gonna be doing on his vacation?"

_Who_ , came that damn voice again. This time, though, he actually chuckled a little despite himself. His eyes still found the floor when he spoke .

"I'm taking someone with me."

Both his bandmates grinned slyly at that. "Man, you kept that quiet," offered the bassist.

"I didn't even know you were dating," Kirk agreed. "Do I know her?"

"Um, you met them a little while ago."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"They were at that awards show."

"Really?" Kirk squinted in thought. "What's her name?"

Lars gave an exasperated little huff at Kirk's obliviousness. Obviously the genderless pronoun was a bit too subtle for him. Finally he decided to just bite the bullet. _Fuck it._ "Billie."

Once again, Kirk squinted. "I don't think I met any-"

If there was a definition in the dictionary for 'realisation with a side of duh', there would be a picture of Kirk's face. Like someone had drawn a squeegee across his face to change his expression, it wiped from confused to surprised over an amusingly long few seconds. Lars would've laughed if he wasn't so suddenly full-on nervous again. Then Kirk's verbalisation of his shock brought a bashful little smile from his lips.

"Ho. Ly. Motherfucker."

After a pause, Lars rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Rob also seemed to have caught on. Judging by his reaction, anyway.

"The fucking dude from Green Day?!"

Lars just, just managed to reign in the instinct to say 'yeah, I'm fucking the dude from Green Day'. Just. Instead, he gave a very coy "Um, yeah," and dug his toe into the carpet. Like he was twelve, or something.

"Since, like, before the awards show?" Kirk asked, voice high and eyes wide. "Because you guys-"

"Um, that was kind of where the ball started rolling. Kind of. It's where it started getting a bit, um, serious I guess."

A hugely pregnant pause, a quiet thick enough to hit someone over the head with, then Kirk shattered the trepidation digging sharp claws into Lars's stomach with a sputtered laugh. "Hey, that guy's gotten pretty lately!" He drew a hand down his form, looking at Rob with very serious expression. "He's gotten...distinguished."

"And he's actually the same height as you, man." Rob added, a smile spreading slowly across his face. "No more standing on your tippy toes."

There was a second's pause as Lars stared at them both, mouth moving without sound, and finally he laughed. It was a relieved, high-pitched, tension-releasing thing. "Fuck you," he huffed, the tiniest tremble in his voice. He scrubbed both hands over his face. "Fuck both of you."

He was rather a lot relieved that neither of them seemed to remember the wedding band on Billie's finger - he really didn't want to have to explain something he didn't comprehend and would rather not think about himself. Another reason why he'd been a little apprehensive about the brochure through the mailbox thing - how the fuck would Adrienne take something like that? She'd been fine, even pleased about it for whatever reason, and Lars had taken her blessing and ran with it. But that was all old news - back to implicitly informing your bandmates that you like the boys as well as the girls.

Suddenly, Kirk looked a little pensive. "Oh, James...does James know?" he asked a little quietly.

Lars cleared his throat, also speaking in a quieter voice - pointless because of the soundproofing, but it felt necessary. "Yeah. But I think he'd appreciate it and I'd certainly appreciate it if it wasn't really discussed in front of him." _In front of James the fucking homophobe_ , he added to himself acidly.

Kirk and Rob nodded, the latter then brightening the mood again. "The Caribbean - you romantic ol' dog, you," he smiled.

"I am not old," Lars replied matter-of-factly. "But I am the best fucking rock star boyfriend ever, I'll give you that."

"Are you gonna have rose petals sprinkled in the hot tub? Champagne on ice - _pink_ champagne?" Kirk teased, grinning wide. "Midnight walks on the beach? Enya on the sound system?"

Lars went from meting out a few almighty eyerolls to a genuinely disgusted look, mouth twisting in distaste. "Fucking Enya? Sure, right next to the Mariah and the Celine. What the fuck, why have you gotta be so silly?"

The door opened a little, breaking the conversation. James's voice filtered through. "Rob, you got a call out here."

The bassist pushed himself to his feet, looping a mighty arm around Lars's shoulders and squeezing him tight. Interestingly, he offered a little piece of advice, murmuring it right into Lars's ear.

"Dude, sex on the beach? Sandy and you're really gonna need a shower after, but totally worth it."

Lars actually giggled and blushed, green eyes sparkling briefly with some vision of what that might be like. "Um, thanks, man."

Rob's large palm flattened on his drummer's head, ruffling unkempt brown curls before heading out to take the call. Lars willed away the colour in his cheeks as he turned to Kirk. "So, you got any tips for me?"

The guitarist smirked, quirking an eyebrow in a most devilish manner. "As far as I can remember, you've got all the knowledge you'll need."

Lars's blush deepened and he grinned. There was a lot of crazy, shady shit that went down late at night and early in the morning on the Load tour, but ending up high on coke and drunk on vodka in Kirk's hotel room - more specifically, in Kirk's bed - had to have been one of the crazier nights. Several of the crazier nights, actually. It was for that reason that he didn't really mind getting into fights with James ten years ago. Or taking a promotional jaunt around Europe with his lead guitarist two years later. Ah, memories.

As Kirk passed him to re-enter the main room, in what could be viewed by the cynical as a moment of weakness, Lars reached out and wrapped his arms around his bandmate, face burying in his chest. "Thanks," he mumbled. He felt he didn't need to say what for.

"Aww," Kirk responded, petting the shorter man's head. "Why didn't you say something before, Uli? I mean it was kind of a given that you're into guys, because hello, drunken but damn good blowjobs, but," he paused as Lars muffled a laugh against his collarbone. "Why didn't you tell me about Billie?"

Lars snorted. "Baggage, Kirk. Fucking baggage."

"Understood," Kirk replied, nodding sagely and not pressing the issue further. His voice softened a little and he draped an arm over Lars's shoulders. "The Caribbean. Wow. That's kind of a big deal, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. He," the drummer paused to consider his words, and both his form and his voice seemed to shrink a tiny bit. "I think we're in that place now. At least I feel comfortable enough with him that I can suggest a vacation for us. He makes me feel comfortable, and wanted, and needed, and...I-I like him, I like him a lot." Something had fluttered in Lars's chest at the formation of that last sentence, making him stutter slightly and then giggle.

Kirk grinned again. "Hey, don't tell the press or anything, but you're fucking adorable."

The vague wistfulness in Lars's voice vanished, dropping right back into crabby mode with amusing ease as his jaw jutted out indignantly and he glared up at the guitarist, green eyes vibrant. "I am _not_. Fuck."

Kirk once again petted him, earning himself a muttered _forhelvede_ and a half-hearted squirm. He decided to pursue an older line of questioning before Lars got too tetchy. "So what _are_ you going to be busting out on the sound system?"

"Angel Witch. And early Iron Maiden," Lars replied, releasing his bandmate and pushing a hand through his hair. "Maybe some Deep Purple."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Maybe some Tygers of Pan Tang. I'm really going to be going for a more old school kind of basis. Can't beat the classics, after all."

"No sir, you cannot."

The two of them continued to talk in this vein for a while, until it was time to actually get back and do some fuckin' work. Lars felt warmth settle in his midsection; but for the still present - but fading - friction between he and James, he was happy. The image of Billie, all golden brown, oversized shorts, suncream and silly grin was an endearing one. The image of him lying back on white sands, naked and needful, was something else entirely. He looked forward to them both, so much so that when James entered the studio, he flashed a wide, smug grin at the taller man.

_You know what, little Jamie? I don't even care that you didn't wanna come on vacation with me, not really. Because Billie fucking appreciates what I'm trying to do for him, and regardless of whether his wife knows about me or not, that's still more than you seemed to do. I'm not some little commodity to him - whatever you might have said about still loving me, that's really what I was to you. Billie's different. Billie really needs me. And I need him._

Lars trotted into the studio-cum-rehearsal space, peeling off his shirt and dropping himself down behind his kit. Back to business. "Okay, so, start off with _Sanitarium_? Then I'd like to, um, try going straight into _Disposable Heroes_ and see how that feels..."

Murmurs of agreement from his bandmates as they strapped on their guitars. The Dane allowed himself another smile as Rob twisted out the doomy opening bass lick to the two decades young song.

_Dating the guy from Green Day and I'm whisking him off to the Caribbean._

Four days to go.  



End file.
